


crick water

by feychella



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Kissing in the Rain, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feychella/pseuds/feychella
Summary: Moonshine leaves to defeat Thiala. Jaina learns to fight her demons alone.
Relationships: Jaina Bronzebeard/Moonshine Cybin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	crick water

**Author's Note:**

> recently been feeling more inspired to write about these two! 
> 
> tw: lots of drinking, broken glass, minor blood

Jaina takes a sip of crick water, screwing her face up - it’s bitter but it helps her. She doesn't know _how_ it helps, exactly. No, that's a lie. It helps her mind go quiet, for once, all those horrible thoughts rushing through her head were finally gone. The anxiety is quelled after the first drink, after the third, fourth, fifth, she can’t remember what she’s supposed to be all nervous about. It tastes like poison, but there were parts of her she wanted to kill, so she pours it down her throat anyway. Tomorrow morning would be hell. Jaina doesn’t care.

She rarely leaves the stump she shared with Moonshine anymore. There was nothing in the Crick for her. This wasn’t her _family_. These weren’t her _people_. Once, a few weeks ago - or days, she can’t tell anymore - she left the stump and stood in the center of the main clearing before the Grandmother Tree. The feeling of _otherness_ rushed over her and she reached for the crick water. The crick elves stared at her as she swayed over to the alcohol supply. Ol' Cobb tried to talk her down, she waved him away, slamming the door behind her. Jaina tilts the bottle up and her mouth starts burning. She coughs, once, twice, nose and eyes streaming, and wipes her face with her sleeves. A headache starts creeping towards the space between her eyes. Her feet carry her over to the cabinet and she collapses against it.

Moonshine’s clothes are still in the dresser and she pulls them out in the light of the stars. They still smell like her, like peaches and lavender, and Jaina hugs the sweaters and overalls to her chest, mumbling a little prayer that Moonshine would defeat Thiala, that she would come _home._ Jaina’s clothes were still in the bottom drawers. She couldn’t take up Moonshine’s space. She wasn’t even sure if they were in an official relationship. They hadn’t had enough time. Rain pours down outside and Jaina watches the lightning flicker in the dark sky. She hates the rain. She hates this place without Moonshine.

She leaves the clothes on the floor, dragging herself towards the kitchen, prying the refrigerator open. _No bottles left._ Her knees shake and she slams the fridge shut, anger tensing her shoulders. It wasn’t fair. After Gemma, she thought that she could deal with loss. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knows that if Moonshine doesn’t come back, she’ll be broken beyond repair. She pushes the thought far from her mind and sucks the last of the crick water out of the abandoned bottles on their kitchen counter.

As she makes her way towards the window, her feet catch and she tumbles to the ground in a heap, alcohol spilling around her. Pain spikes through her hand and she wails, bottle crashing to the ground. Glass smashes against the floor and she grabs it with her hands without thinking, throwing it in the garbage. Jaina examines the cuts on her hands as she bandages her fingers. Running her hands through her hair, she sits on the little window seat in their bedroom, watching the rain. It beats against the window and she gathers her knees to her chest, twisting her fingers together.

A slip of paper glows on the dresser and she picks it up. She doesn’t have to _read_ it, she’d memorized it a long time ago, but there was something comforting about the shape of Moonshine’s blocky letters. _Dear Jaina. It’s Moonshine._ She sees Moonshine’s bright green eyes whenever she falls asleep. Her laugh plays over in her mind, over and over, and Jaina presses her hands to her ears. What if Moonshine was gone? What if all she had left were these disjointed memories? If they’d only had more _time_ , maybe she wouldn’t feel so much pain. Or maybe she would, because when you lose someone you love, the pain doesn’t really go away. The paper flutters to the ground and the rest of her strength dissipates.

She struggles onto the bed, legs giving out under her. Hatred bubbles up in her chest - for Thiala, the Chosen, Moonshine for leaving her. She knows it's not fair. The bottle smashes against the far wall. Her ears barely register the sound. Jaina cocoons herself in blankets, staring out the window, shaking. 

The blankets remind her of the days she spent in her bed after Gemma died. She _hated_ how the servants looked at her, with their eyes full of pity, with their _I’m sorry_ and their fake condolences. Their prayers didn’t mean anything. Their prayers wouldn’t bring Gemma back. Jaina hated feeling weak. She hated the way she wasn’t able to move. She hated the fact that she couldn’t walk down the hallway, eat, breathe, without thinking about Gemma, that knife buried in her chest. Her breaths would come in gasps, late at night, her chest tightening. No one was there for her, so she would force herself to sleep. When she closes her eyes, she sees Gemma running towards her in a white dress, bright and lovely, hands outstretched.

The first nights were bad, but the months afterward were hell. She would take her mind off Gemma for a few moments, then the guilt would rush in because _how could she be forgetting about Gemma?_ Jaina thinks back to the little picture of the two of them pinned to her bedroom mirror. She held it in her hands, shakily, and when the paper started disintegrating, she let it fall to the ground, trying to pick up the dust. When the picture was completely gone, fingers scrabbling at the wood, she balls her hands into fists. They say that the servants found her surrounded by broken glass, bleeding knees and all. They say that the king is going to send someone to find whoever broke into her room. Shame rises in her chest and she scrunches the blankets closer to her, shivering despite the warm summer air floating through her window.

Jaina blamed herself of course. For letting Gemma out of her sight, for letting her go up to that balcony with Hardwon Surefoot, for not being there. She knew it wasn’t his fault or hers for that matter. But there was no one else to blame - whoever threw the knife was far gone - so she blamed herself over and over. The roaring in her head was a constant reminder that she couldn’t save Gemma. She retired from the King’s Guard. Her hammer is locked away somewhere under the mountain. Jaina traces the shape of the bandages on her hands, tugging at them and watching the blood blossom under the linen. She should have never let Moonshine out of her sight. 

Hollering comes from outside and she slaps a hand to her forehead, a headache setting behind her eyes. _Why can’t these people just be quiet for once?_ She makes her way towards the window, someone moves, she whirls around. It's her, standing in the mirror, eyes rimmed with red. She was thinner than she'd remembered, her hair messy. Jaina hears glass break and the mirror shatters into pieces around her. She sobs, stumbling towards the window, slamming it open. A little glimmer of hope sparks in her chest. Maybe Moonshine was back. Cooter and his wife race out of their stump towards three figures - Meemaw and Lucanus with blankets around their shoulders rush forward. _It can’t be._ A little halfling, a human, a crick elf. That wasn't possible, but who else would be walking into the Crick at this hour?

Jaina launches herself out the window, bandages ripping free. She ignores the pain pulsing in her head and stumbles forward. Hardwon’s axe, bloodied, Bev’s amulet glowing in the moonlight. The world spins and she tries to concentrate again. Her eyes finally focus and she sways forward. _Moonshine?_

A glimpse of red hair, Moonshine’s smile - she’s running over the grass, through the dirt, bare feet getting cut up by rocks - she's laughing, it's _real_ this time. With a jolt, Jaina realizes that she’s crying. Lightning flashes behind her, thunder roars, she flings herself into Moonshine’s arms, and the world goes quiet. Because it’s just the two of them, Moonshine was _safe_ , and that’s all Jaina ever wanted. That’s all she would ever need. Moonshine crushes her against her chest and Jaina breaks away, tears running down her face. She uses her sleeve to clean her cheeks off, fingers stinging, and Moonshine lifts her up into the air. Her legs go around her partner’s waist and she cups Moonshine’s face in her hands. Moonshine opens her mouth to say something and immediately starts sobbing again. Jaina’s breaths come in gasps and she hugs Moonshine around the neck. _She’s back. She’s home._

They stand there, in the rain, clothes soaking through. Jaina takes Moonshine’s hand and drags her inside the stump. Her eyes widen when she sees the mess. Jaina laughs again, drunk on relief, heart finally light. The overalls and sweaters on the floor are kicked aside and the two of them fall into bed together. Shame rises in her chest as she stares around the room, broken glass, bottles, the worst parts of her. Her wife doesn't question it, instead, Moonshine waves a hand, and everything is restored to its natural order. Moonshine clings to her, pushing her against the doorframe and kissing her deeply.

Their clothes leave water stains on the hardwood floor in the corner of the closet - they could clean up tomorrow, because they still had a tomorrow, and that was enough. Jaina watches Moonshine change out of her overalls, settling into her side of the bed, warm for the first time in weeks. Jaina walks over to the closet, pulling out some light pajamas. Sighing to herself, Moonshine crashes into bed, looking years older. Exhaustion sets into Jaina’s bones and she reaches weakly towards her partner. Moonshine takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. Jaina squeaks as her fingers are healed and her wife gives her a sleepy smile. The sound of her laugh echoes through the stump and Jaina slings an arm around her waist, burying her face in Moonshine’s neck. And when Moonshine kisses her again, Jaina forgets the taste of crick water.


End file.
